Stars In Heaven Align
by Ember Nickel
Summary: What Regulus saw in the cave; twelve memories, each in 144 words, plus an epilogue.
1. Twelve

"Come on," he snaps, irritated. "It can't have been _that_ bad."

"It was h-horrible," stammers the elf.

"Quit your whining," he orders with unnatural gruffness. "Tell me again where it was?"

"In...in a cave, Kreacher knows not where!" Shame tilts his head into the nearest wall.

"Shh," Regulus murmurs awkwardly. One should be kind at a time like this, he feels, but how? "You, you don't have to do that."

His soothing voice is as effective as the harshest order. "The Dark Lord Apparated with me, Master."

"Could you Apparate there again?"

"Per...perhaps. It...it was by the seashore, Kreacher remembers that much."

"By the sea." He stands, trembling with nervous energy. "Kreacher, I want you to stay in the house and not tell anyone about this."

"Not Kreacher's mistress?"

"Not anyone. That's an order."

And he walks away, his mind rolling over distant waves.


	2. Eleven

His eyes glaze over the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook he should be reviewing from. He cannot be bothered to summon up any interest in the upcoming exam. There's no _point_ to it, really—obviously for that class, but most of the others are almost as pathetic wastes of time.

He decides to go study for the Astronomy objective, despite having gotten an "Outstanding" O.W.L. after barely opening the textbook. On his way to his room, however, an owl swoops in and begins pecking at him, unable to wait even for the next morning's mail. His mother's handwriting has never been legible, and it is even less so now, scrawled through blurs of emotion.

The next day, his classmates scrape their way through the test, and he walks with his head down through Muggle London, even more convinced that none of it matters.


	3. Ten

"C'mon," he mutters, ashamed of his unease. "Let's get out of here."

"What's the rush?" smirks Dolohov. "Afraid of being around dead bodies?"

"Of course not!" Regulus retorts. "Just...don't see what we want with dirty Muggles, that's all."

Others snicker in the background. Dolohov patronizingly pats Regulus on the back. "He is young. He will learn."

Another Death Eater steps forward and points his wand at the corpse. His lips move, but no sound comes out. The others begin Disapparating quietly. Regulus stays and watches, entranced.

With one hand, Dolohov curtly beckons Regulus away from the concentrating warlock. Reluctantly, he stays put for Side-Along Apparition (kill a man and there's nothing the bureaucrats can do about it, flee the scene and they'll get you for underage Apparition).

"What was that all about?" he asks when they arrive.

"Even in death, it can still serve."


	4. Nine

"M-morsmordre," he stammers. It should be a triumphant yell, but he is too nervous to deliberately emote.

A green fog emerges from the tip of his wand and hovers there, formless. For a moment he fears that his spell was not strong enough, but then it ekes its way out until it expands into the grotesque image looming over him.

The Dark Lord points his wand at the sinister constellation and flicks it quietly; then, one by one, the stars fall from the sky into Regulus's skin. He does not cry out. It is merely physical agony, the most exquisite kind he ever hopes to taste.

Does it belong here, with his most painful memories? It does not seem so at the time; they hurt in another way. But knowing that having become what he became is now his greatest regret spurs him onward.


	5. Eight

Something twinkles above him and he takes off, soaring above the squabbling below. The Hufflepuff Seeker immediately gives chase, and the Snitch plummets towards the Chasers. Hufflepuff's trinity is trying for a reverse pass.

Regulus is faster on his broom, but his opponent is more in control. She'll be able to change direction as soon as—and there it goes, racing now towards the goalposts. She pivots more quickly than he does, and now he scrambles to catch up. He pulls ahead again, but he knows that he can't keep that kind of pace up for long. Leaning forward with everything he has, he reaches out and snatches the Snitch by one struggling wing.

He takes his time descending, knowing his captain will be there to berate him. "They were up by two hundred, you idiot!"

Sullenly, he doesn't make eye contact. "I know."


	6. Seven

Professor Boldach wearily addresses the class. "Now, who can tell me where the sun is now?"

"On the other side of the world, it already set," smirks a short girl. Her friends giggle.

Regulus rolls his eyes. "It just moved into the twelfth house."

"Very good...Rigel, is it?"

"Regulus."

"Well done. And for five points for Slytherin, what does that mean?"

"It's almost spring?"

Boldach sighs. "If I wanted predictions about the weather, Rigil, I would look at a calendar! What does this forebode? What will transpire that the unenlightened mage cannot intuit?"

"I dunno," Regulus shrugs, sinking awkwardly in his chair. He's seated like the other kids now, half-attentive, but his back hurts.

The professor's mustache begins to indignantly twitch. "Have you no respect for the basic principles of this course?"

"That stars can show us things? Of course. Just...just not_ those_ things."


	7. Six

"Wait! Sirius, come back!"

"Come now, Regulus," his mother smiles. "I want to hear all about your term."

"You can't just let him leave like that!"

"Don't worry about him." Regulus's father pats him on the back. "How's school, eh?"

Impulsively, Regulus reaches for his wand, despite not knowing what he can _do_ with it. But his mother reaches for his hand. "Mum, I'm not a child, I don't need you to hold my hand at the train station."

"Well, tell us how life is, we haven't seen you for months!"

"And when's the next time you're going to see Sirius, huh?"

"That doesn't matter right now."

"Can I go run away? Are you going to stop me?"

"What would you want to run away for?" his dad asks.

"Dunno, why don't you go ask Sirius?"

"You're not Sirius," says his mother. "Come on."


	8. Five

His eyes alight on Divination and he knows that that is what he wants to take. What if you could see the future? It makes him shiver a little, but it's worth it.

Ancient Runes are irrelevant, Care of Magical Creatures boring, Arithmancy seems hard...but it'll help him for N.E.W.T. level Astronomy, so it might be worth it.

He is folding the paper to put in his pocket when he notices "Muggle" and winces. He looks to make sure he read it correctly...yes, "Muggle Studies." Why would anyone want to _study_ the creatures?

"Is anybody here in Muggle Studies?" he asks.

A nearby girl laughs derisively. "You're not considering taking that trash, are you?"

"Of course not!" he retorts more quickly than he wants to. "I just want to know why it's even on the curriculum, that's all."

She shrugs, reaching for a muffin.


	9. Four

He hugs his mother, but not too tightly—there are other kids there. "Bye mum, bye dad."

Suitcase proudly in hand, he boards the train and heads to the back where the cool kids are, passing fellow nervous first-years.

But Sirius and his friends are in the second-to-last compartment. "Can I sit here?" Regulus nods at an empty seat.

"Nah," says Sirius, "we're saving that."

"For who?" he challenges.

Sirius glances nervously at one of his Gryffindor friends, who says "Peter."

"Sorry!" Sirius calls as Regulus proceeds to the back. The last compartment is fully occupied by seventh-year Hufflepuff girls with whom he does not want to spend any time.

He turns towards the front of the train. But while he has been questing backwards, the train has been filling up. Walking head-down, only needing one open seat, he can feel his schoolmates' eyes.


	10. Three

"Mum, I'm not a child, I don't need you to hold my hand at the train station." Sirius rolls his eyes.

"When are you coming home?" asks Regulus.

"Christmas," he shrugs offhandedly.

"Christmas?" He's _already_ waiting for it.

"Yeah," Sirius smirks. "I'll bring you back old homework as a present."

"Sirius!" their father reprimands.

"Just kidding."

There's a pretty girl standing around with her parents. Regulus's father glances critically at that family, then checks his watch. "It should come soon."

"Maybe it'll be late," Regulus says, "and you can stay home and play with me."

"He'll send us lots of owls." Their mother runs her hand through Regulus's short hair. "Won't you, Sirius?"

"Yeah," he mutters, staring out towards the track. Then the train is there, tons of metal shining as they grow nearer.

Regulus stares at the horizon even after the smoke fades.


	11. Two

The Shooting Star takes off. Soon, he's as high as his upper-story window, and a moment later higher still. Not much higher, and Number Twelve is hardly distinguishable from Eleven and Thirteen. Not that he's looking down.

"Regulus!" his father barks. "Come down here _this instant!_"

"But dad—"

"Now!" His knuckles turn red around the wand he is gripping.

Regulus unhurriedly descends.

"You know perfectly well that you only fly when we're away from Muggles. You could have been seen!"

Eyes on the ground, he walks toward the house.

"Give me the broom."

Regulus does nothing, so his father marches toward the door to intercept him. "Give me the broom."

Reluctantly, he hands it over.

"You'll get this back once you're mature enough for it." He opens the door and waits until Regulus has trooped inside before following him in and closing it.


	12. One

"I'm Regulus," he says.

"Wegulus? That's a silly name." She giggles, and he finds himself giggling without knowing or caring why. It is a bright morning, the lone sun shining upon the next-door neighbors from different worlds. There is no need for formal courtesy; theirs is the shamelessness of childhood. It _is_ nice to meet her. No need to mention it when it couldn't be otherwise.

"Regulus!" his mother screeches from the top step. "Come inside!"

He needs no words to protest, just simple ignorance.

Her shadow nears across the yard until she scoops him up, hands bony and frustrated. "I don't _wanna_!" he futilely screams, thrashing as he is borne inside.

"You do not speak to Muggles," she hisses once there. Some of his relatives on the walls stir when they hear her, nodding their approval and _tsk_ing their disapproval.

"Whah?" says Regulus.


	13. Zero

He staggers and collapses, dimly conscious of Kreacher reaching for the locket. The elf's face seems more bruised than usual, though it's hard to tell at this distance.

Regulus hears rather than sees the replacement hit the bottom of the basin. As he tries to clamber to his feet, he feels a clammy grip on one arm. He reaches for his wand with the other, but it too is seized. There is nothing to be done but breathe, taking in all the air he can.

They pull him inexorably down. He does not begrudge the Inferi their duty, but rather pities them; in death they are still caught in the machinations of some greater power, but in death he will be defiant.

His body, craving air, breathes in. The water pacifies his throat and jolts the rest of him aware. There's a wave passing through the lake—Kreacher rowing away—and the potion has refilled. The cave glows green like a canopy of malevolent stars.

He breathes once more, and, like the dawn of the new day, all the stars go out.


End file.
